I’ve been sitting here working on a few pieces I have sitting in my drafts folder and have had issues finishing them. Major issues. It’s a struggle all creatives deal with and today it’s hitting hard. You see, I didn’t start out to blog. First and foremost, I’m a writer. There are books in me, long form journalism pieces, and so much more. Blogging has been a wonderful outlet.
But, I’ve trapped myself.
Let me explain.
There’s a lot of think about. Some of it’s PC, a lot of it’s not. And I’ve not published those pieces, or I’ve pulled them, to keep people who read my blog happy. They are afraid that if you show the “real you” you’re somehow going to damage something they are connected to.
But isn’t my job as a writer protected by the First Amendment. Should I not be allowed to say what I have to say. Furthermore, shouldn’t I practice what I preach and write what I want? While I keep it clean online, I’ll admit I learned to swear a blue streak from my mother. I have another blogging friend, who shall remain nameless, who’s discussed her “trucker mouth” with me.
Why are we keeping it so … generic. Why are we bending to Victorian mores of propriety and not speaking our mind? While there has to be a line, after all, I have no desire to go out with both middle fingers raised most days, I do want to write what I want to write. And I want people to respect that writing.
But how can they respect me if I’m not writing what I want to write. Furthermore, how can I respect myself if I’m not writing what I want to write.
In this age of transparency and “being real” it seems like there are very few of us who are real, showing the world what we only want them to see. We are impostors in our own lives.